“So, my mother didn’t believe our lies when we too tried to leave the table. Anyway, what is this about?”

I look Finn up and down. “He said he really is going to church.”

“But… why?” Lena asks.

Finn throws his hands up in the air and winces at the movement in his wounded shoulder. “Can’t a man go to church without being interrogated? Everyone in this city is going to church today!”

“An ordinary man can, but you cannot.”

“I’m not your prisoner,” he laughs.

“But you aren’t our guest, either,” Maxine says.

“So, what would you have me do?” Finn asks.

I sigh. “I’ll go. I’ll go to make sure he doesn’t do anything else.”

“You want to be my jailer?”

“You can hardly blame me for not trusting you.”

“All right, then.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the street. “Let’s go to church.”

“We don’t have to go, do we?” Lena asks.

“Not if you don’t want to,” I say. It’s not as if I could beat Finn in a physical fight, but I doubt it will come to anything of the sort. I just want to ensure he’s not sneaking off to meet with someone or return to his strange settlement by the lake. We still need him to close the veil, even if we don’t quite know how yet.

“Fantastic, let’s go buy pastries,” Maxine says. “Pray for me!” she calls over her shoulder on her way across the street. None of us are talking about the way Finn was shot just hours ago or what happened last night at the Louvre.

I’ve been accused of keepings things too close to my chest, but the others are just as guilty of it as I am. Why is it we’re capable of facing down death together but so terrified of admitting we’re terrified?

“Mass is at ten, fancy a stroll?” Finn asks.

I huff out something noncommittal but follow at his heels.

“I’m surprised you tagged along, I imagine you’re tired after last night,” he says after two blocks, casual like we’re friends on a walk.

I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to be doing this with him at all. “I am. I’d rather be back in bed at Maxine’s but I’m here instead, playing nanny to you.”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” he laughs. “Perhaps you just wanted time with me?”

I punch him in the shoulder, right where I know the bullet grazed him.

He winces and I smile.

It isn’t long before we reach the river. It makes me sick to walk with him alongside its banks.

Do you remember him? the most spiteful parts of me want to ask. Did you walk alongside the river with my brother before you threw his body in?